


Lyrium Promises

by VulpusTumultum



Series: The Tevinter's Templar [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Build, multi-chapter, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpusTumultum/pseuds/VulpusTumultum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herald/Lump of Andraste, Lyos Lavellan still hasn't made his feelings clear to Dorian, and yet takes a step in warrior training that could seriously damage or completely destroy even a platonic friendship with most mages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hard Bargain

Returning to Skyhold took some time- Lyos didn't like to waste anything, much less a trip from there to Redcliffe and back. Dispatches had inevitably found them, and they'd detoured to clear up every opened rift even vaguely along the route, as well as taken care of an assortment of bandits, Venatori, Red Templars, and one extra large great bear that had apparently been wounded by Red Templars and whose temperment hadn't been improved by the red lyrium contact.

There'd also been the ruins they'd checked for one of the stabilizing artifacts- Solas had thought one might be there, according to a scout, and the ruins also, to no one's real surprise, wound up having demons and undead within it. The sheer numbers of them _had_ been a surprise. 

Everyone in the party had had at least one brush with death by the time they'd reached the mountains, and when they did finally see Skyhold's high walls, everyone but the Inquisitor himself was relieved. 

He'd made up his mind about something that he knew was going to make at least one of his war council  _very_ upset- and might be just as upsetting to a few others he considered friends, as well as a random number of mages. If and when some members of his clan ever found out, they probably could be added to the list as well. His father would most  _certainly_ be unhappy, wherever he was, if he heard.

_And how_ _**is** _ _ Dorian going to take it? He isn't... used to the Templars here, he has no reason to hate any but the ones working for Corypheus, he doesn't seem to be as bothered. But... _

But he'd been weighing all that against what he was supposed to accomplish- his duty. And then there was that accursed tomb, where the Dorian's fire magic had been less than effective on the rage demons that kept appearing, and where the revenant had lost interest in trying to get through Lyos' defenses and gone straight for the mage, entirely too fast-

By the time everything in that tomb was down-  _permanently_ down, he had actually been the only one still standing, and only barely, at that. The sudden silence when the pounding of his blood and adrenaline subsided, the choking fear until he'd been able to reassure himself they were alive, and still a sense of failure until they'd all regained consciousness, Dorian being the last to wake up-

A lingering sense of failure even then.

He'd made up his mind after that, and Cullen, well.. he and anyone else would just have to live with it, because it seemed the best route to ensuring they  _would_ live. While everyone else headed off to get some well earned rest, he climbed the battlement stairs to find the Templar called Ser. He'd already put together what was needed while at the last Inquisition camp- best to just... get on with it.

There was no way he could, even if she and any others needed would help, do it the way Cassandra described how Seekers got their abilities, there wasn't enough time, and he had no interest in being a Seeker. Being Inquisitor and Herald was heavy enough of a burden. Ser had made it clear that he wouldn't have to take new vows, that this offer of training was because of his current standing- so... lyrium it was going to be.

Maybe after it was over, he could follow Cullen's example. But first it had to be over, with him still standing, and preferably not as the last one doing so.

 


	2. Lyrium Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with Mother Giselle makes Lyos realize that he can't put off talking to his companions about his choice any longer- and in fact, he shouldn't have put it off as long as he has.

Days back at Skyhold. Reports to Cullen, to Leliana- arguing with Cullen about his decision and spending the rest of his time being trained by Ser- focusing on getting a handle on the strange, almost hungry feel of the lyrium in his veins and the new abilities and techniques it opened up to him.

He'd need to go back out in the field soon- Hawke was marking days until they could have a meeting with that mysterious warden insider, and so there was no time to visit with those he'd grown close to (at least, he told himself that, but some, yes some he just wasn't ready to answer if asked what the hell he had been thinking.)

In truth, it also felt good to be learning something new and just _training_ again. Still had to do paperwork and meetings and reports, but there was something about having to drop everything else from his mind while someone else barked commands and instructions until it was certain he'd grasped the new lesson.

Skyhold itself would help prevent another Haven from happening, but he had to be the one to keep losses to a minimum when out in smaller groups.

So, train and work during the day, read until he fell asleep at night- isolated like he had once been used to feeling, and he was decidedly comfortable with it for two days- until he ran into Mother Giselle, wishing to speak with him. Privately.

He had almost forgotten how irritated- no, angry- he still was with her over the last time she had pulled him aside, to show him the letter from Dorian's father. The irritation had been at her instant assumption that he'd agree with her that Dorian was a threat. The anger started when she'd tried to manipulate him into lying to his friend in the name of 'reconcilliation' to a family that even seemed to admit they'd driven him away- not because she actually cared what might have been done or not, but simply because she wanted the handsome mage _gone_. If it was gone on a happy note, that might have been a bonus, but it was not, for all her speaking of compassion and her duties, what she thought was important.

Up until then, he'd gotten along well with her- she cared for people, she'd disagreed with the Chantry's condemnations of him as Herald and the Inquisition. Her actions during the trek to Skyhold from ruined Haven had, he knew, not just given hope that _had_ been needed when he'd felt far too broken and bitter to provide any, but also had sealed him firmly into being trusted and believed in as Herald of Andraste.

She was, probably, the main reason he was now Inquisitor- although he didn't particularly feel grateful about that on a regular basis.

But once there was not immediate crisis... well, the Mother might have an open mind about magic, elven Heralds, and various other heresies, but it was a closed one when it came to any Tevinter mage being an honest ally. She also seemed somehow to collect every bit of gossip, once in Skyhold, and he was suddenly suspecting she did more than _listen_ to it. She was as astute a politician as any Chantry mother, she knew how to sway thoughts- like in the mountain passes.

He wanted to ignore her- or refuse, wondering if she was going to ask what happened- but at the same time, no, he couldn't afford to _not_ find out what she wanted. If she did try to feel him out about anything, he needed to return the favor, and find out whether they were going to be in conflict.

“Of course, Mother Giselle,” he said instead, and followed her to a garden alcove that was not currently busy.

“You have taken on the training of a Templar,” was not the opening he'd been expecting. He merely shrugged, and nodded, wondering where this was going, and she continued, “it is not a role many would think a Dalish elf would turn to, and especially after you have in the past seemed dedicated to freedom for mages.”

“I am not becoming a Templar in the usual sense, Mother. My only titles will remain Herald and Inquisitor, and I am taking none of the usual Templar oaths.”

“I see, that will be a relief to some,” she said, and something in her tone was an unspoken reminder tht it would also _upset_ some, but it didn't give away which she was. Once, he would have assumed it was the former.

“And upsetting to others, I am aware, yes. But I am facing demons and the enemy has enough Venatori mages that it seemed best for the Inquisition.”

“Upsetting perhaps to some you seemed close to... has the Tevinter caused issue over this?”

“I have not had a chance to discuss it yet with any of the mages _close to me,_ including him. I think they will, though, understand.” _eventually,_ he thought silently, _I hope._ Her direct inquiry about Dorian though, it rubbed him raw. “Also, our _ally_ that _left Tevinter to warn and aid us_ has a name. You've used it before, I think.”

 _She still isn't even allowing him the benefit of the doubt, even though she knows Dorian fights beside me_ , he realized, even as she made an apology. An apology that he bitterly felt was a polite falsehood. _Yes, and there she goes, bringing up how it is important how the people see and trust me, how they have doubts about him, how it's **the people** who are not easily swayed, not her._

She even, to completely destroy the apology as far as he was concerned, brought up the damn letter after all, and now, knowing _exactly_ what “festered between him and his father, who wished reconciliation,” even knowing she didn't know- _and it was certainly none of her business_ \- that burned worse than the Lyrium dose had. Something in his expression made her take a step back.

“Never bring that letter up again. To me, or to _anyone,_ ” and he turned on his heel and left her before she said another word.

He was halfway up the steps to the library, having passed Solas without even noticing him, when he stopped abruptly as uncertainty hit him. _Why_ was he going immediately to Dorian? To warn him? Likely the man knew that Mother Giselle and rumor were still being unkind to him- he kept his own ear to rumor, after all, being used to playing that blasted Game.

 _And what if rumors are saying already that I've taken this path because I do not trust **him**_?

_And if that spreads to also include Solas? Although at least Giselle is not as out to get him for some reason...._

Vivienne, he suspected, would approve if she thought he distrusted mages suddenly, even if she herself was included amongst them. But he was an idiot for not bringing it up first with Solas and Dorian at the very least; even if he wouldn't have let them change his mind, he _should_ have been ready to give them his reasons before the gossip made reasons up for him. He should have remembered that gossip existed here, entirely outside of his control and expertise.

He turned and went back down the stairs- Solas would be... easier to deal with either way. Then, talk to Dorian.


	3. Lyrium's Smell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyos and Dorian's discussion of the whole Templar/Lyrium thing turns out to not be as bad as Lyos feared.
> 
> Though one could argue it became an entirely different kind of awkward and upsetting. (Or at least, embarrassing.)

The Tevinter mage was lounging in his favorite chair, not reading, but instead watching the crows that were currently hopping about on the railing and flying up to the top level of the tower with bemusement. Lyos immediately felt the twitchy, slightly embarrassing thrill that he always felt when he'd not seen Dorian in a while. _Like an infatuated teenager,_ he thought.

“Most civilized librarians would be quite against birds flapping about the books, you realize,” the mage said as Lyos entered the alcove he'd claimed on their first day at Skyhold, still watching the birds. “Especially crows, quite the nuisance, I sit trying to read and there is a shriek from some poor scholar, as a bird steals their pen or craps on their subject of study. Very distracting.”

He finally looked up at the warrior, and smiled beautifully. “I do hope one never takes a shit right over Solas as he works away downstairs- perhaps one has, do you think, and he just has remained more stoic and uncomplaining than the average scholar or mage?”

_That_ made Lyos choke a little, despite his nerves, and the mage rose with apparent delight at having gotten the reaction. “You've been busy, meanwhile, while the rest of us lounge about,” he went on, wandering closer. “Watching you would exhaust me, if of course, I left my cozy spot or you came in here more often.”

Lyos felt his shoulders twitch, and he tried to scan the man's tone in his mind- rebuke? Flirtation? Perfectly normal Dorian sass?

“Well, I would hate for you to get exhausted just watching me,”  _Creators, just a few days of not seeing him, and I'm back to staring at that ridiculously bared shoulder or the corner of his mouth like an enthralled twit._

That line may have won him some points, lips quirking further into that saucy smile, though it didn't last long, the mage dropping the shoe.

“So off you've been, becoming a Templar? I admit to surprise, you never seemed to fully agree with them before. Are you taking vows suddenly? Poverty? Celibacy- do they do that? The Chant suddenly became enthralling?”

Lyos quickly shook his head, “No- I just..I have no interest in any of the blasted philosophy, but the abilities are useful enough to be worth the other price, I think.”

“Useful for dealing with mages, and as a mage, I find that a little unsettling,” Dorian wasn't giving much away, that Lyos could read, at least.

_Shit._

“I only want to unsettle the mages who like to attack us as we go about our merry way or rip giant holes in the sky- and even more important to me- the abilities are good for dealing with _demons.”_

_So many rifts, that damned tomb and the way they swarmed up, couldn't defend everyone, couldn't defend anyone enough. You nearly died, we all did-_

Cole might have heard that burst of unpleasant memory from across the Keep, maybe Dorian saw some hint of his thoughts in his face or the sudden silence. Silence that stretched until the mage relaxed somehow, and chuckled.

“You know that lyrium has a smell?”

“Wait, what?” Lyos blinked, trying to catch his thoughts up to the abrupt direction change.

“It smells like the air after a lightning storm,” Dorian picked a book up, and his smile suddenly grew. “It's incredibly sexy, I think.”

_...Shit. Is.. wait. Is he just teasing?_

“So good on you for that,” and the mage drifted past Lyos,  _so close they almost brushed against each other,_ and wandering away, leaving the Inquisitor still trying to just recover his wits.

If it had been a contest of some sort, Dorian had most definitely won. If he'd been upset, then perhaps he'd just gotten revenge.


	4. Lyrium Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Adamant, both Lyos and Dorian are tired enough that their shields begin to come down.

Lists of the dead from Adamant. Deciding what to do with the Wardens, and wondering how in the hells they had lasted so long and done so much when they kept so many secrets even from themselves that the loss of Commander Clarel and Loghaine had almost left the ones in Orlais milling around like so many sheep. People angry he'd let them stay- partially because he did not trust them out of Inquisition sight, partially because they needed more men- and frankly, they were at this point a good example of what happened when one really felt any means were justified by the right end.

Unhappy he'd let Loghain sacrifice himself, even though... well, he had no real knowledge of the man other than out of rumor and books, but that had been enough to give him something of a second or even third hand dislike for someone who had sanctioned the enslavement of elves. _That_ rumor had spread fast even to distant Dalish clans, proof of why you could never trust a Shem lord. But he wondered if he'd let that dislike motivate him more than real sense, now. Had there maybe been a way all six of them could have left? Had he also been swayed by how _disgusted_ he'd been at the Wardens in general for their willingness to have their throats slit or to slit the throats of their comrades and summon _demons_?

Uncertain because he was tired, tired because he was uncertain and couldn't sleep. Uncertainty about the spirit that had helped them, and... the memories. It wasn't like he'd really known the Divine, he'd been there to learn what the Chantry might get up to, so that Clan Lavellan- who had a history of trading as part of their lifestyle- could better decide whether to continue dealing with Shemlen at all or try and retreat to wilder lands. He'd had no care for her, other than whether her decisions might mean things might not get even worse before they got better. Whether she even had the strength to do anything, or was nothing more than an impotent figurehead with ideas that no one would listen to.

 But he had tried to save her when he'd quite literally just stumbled upon Corypheus' plot, because... well it was instinctive reaction. You don't walk in on an obvious blood ritual, hearing the victim's fear and pleading, and just turn around and try to sneak back out.

And then he'd forgotten, and woken up, feeling hollow and confused, being threatened and accused, with only a vague feeling that he had failed at something important. He'd remembered everything, why he'd been at the Conclave, what it was, his Clan life, of course- everything except what had happened between a foggy memory of arriving and beginning to do his duty for the Keeper, and waking.

 And he wasn't entirely happy to have the memories back, though even without them, the memories of being in the Fade at Adamant alone would have given him nightmares. He'd barely slept when they'd stopped for the night, all the way back to Skyhold. How Solas could be so... Solas-y about the entire experience, he had no idea.

 The one certainty that was unshaken was that he'd probably made the right decision about taking the lyrium. Fighting the demons had been... much easier. In a comparative sense. Keeping Sera relatively calm had been one of the harder tasks- up until that demonic... spider... thing... large enough to fill Skyhold's courtyard and possibly tear down its battlements.. _No._

 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and decided on the book to pull from the shelf and add to his small stack, glancing down at tomes he'd already set down- and saw _the damn spider._

 

Lyos yelped and slammed the latest book down onto it without thinking- and far more force than needed. Despite the late hour, it sent some crows flapping about, complaining at being roused from their sleep. The sound of that book slam- the yelp of startled fright, they _echoed_. At least the library had been empty-

“Well that was... something. Are- you all right?”

_Or not empty._

If his voice hadn't frozen Lyos up, the sudden movement of Dorian coming close from somewhere past his peripheral vision might have earned the mage a reflexive blow. The Inquisitor took a breath, and turned a bit stiffly, but nodded. The mage looked at him in a way that suggested mild disbelief, and picked up the book that had been slammed down, noting the title- and, turning it over, noted the bits of spider now sticking to it. It had been a small spider, but had made a larger than life sort of mess nonetheless.

Dorian didn't say anything, just put the book down, and put a hand on Lyos' shoulder, and escorted the still silent elf over to his favored alcove, where he firmly pushed the unresisting Inquisitor down to sit in his chair.

“Normally I approve of staying up all night reading, but you may be taking it to extremes,” the mage's tone was light, but his eyes were concerned. “It is because of Adamant? Because of what happened in the Fade?”

Lyos licked his lips, and rubbed at his temples. “Yes. In part, at least.”

“And here you'd made it look like it had been nothing but business as usual at first. Killing demons, thwarting Corypheus... stopping Sera from having a nervous breakdown, that interesting thing I heard about where you hit Bull with sticks for an afternoon- I suggest you sell tickets, next time. I'd like a box seat, of course.”

Lyos snorted, relaxing a little- Dorian sounding so.. very typically Dorian- was soothing somehow.

“What, not front row?”

“Where I might get some of his sweat on my clothes? Maker forbid. What are the other parts?”

Lyos choked a little, not because of the sudden question after the joking, but because Dorian had wandered around and now warm fingers were touching his temples, then massaging them. He let out his breath- relaxing slowly again. It felt good, and he was so damn tired...

“Mmph. The memories of the first time in the Fade, and.. what led up to it are less pleasant in some ways than what happened with the others. But.. also.. the usual. The paperwork, the unhappy shouting and suspicion from people angry I 'coddle' the Wardens. The paperwork, the unhappy shouting of people who think I am being too hard on the Wardens,” he snorted softly, “ _Fen'Harel_ , they panicked, and didn't even think to go to their own leaders before turning to the most obvious Venatori agent we have ever encountered- an upcoming _Grand Ball_ at _Halamshiral_ where I am going to have to use diplomacy and perhaps even dance rather than just be able to shout and hit those who attack.”

Dorian snorted, but didn't stop working fingers against Lyos' skin, and the elf sank further into the soft chair.

“You say things like that, and make it sound like you are some savage stalker of the woodlands, and yet you are constantly stealing books away to your room and can stun people into insensibility with your vocabulary whenever you actually decide to speak. Try again.”

“..I want things to... die down again. The soldiers staring, the whispering- it is like after Haven once again. I can just about handle being Inquisitor, it sounds like the title of... well, a man. _Herald of Andraste_...implies trust and faith that has nothing to do with my actual limited abilities- “

“You are infuriatingly humble about your abilities,” and despite the still soothing hands on him, Lyos winced, but Dorian sighed and continued, “Do not worry, Inquisitor, we have had the discussion about my beliefs before, and I have not since then suddenly become someone intending to sing at you- unless you would like to hear a rather bawdy thing that was popular the last time I was in Minrathous, and even then I am not drunk enough right now.”

A silence grew, but it was... a comfortable one. It might not have even been a long one, before the elf's dark eyes closed, and he drifted into sleep.

“And I am.. _entirely_ aware that you are 'just' a man, as much as anything else.”

The words didn't wake him, nor did the blanket being draped over him or the kiss to his brow.

Or the muttered Arcanum curses as Dorian chided himself and slipped away.

 


End file.
